She thought he put the stars in the sky
by stellamirandaa
Summary: AU. Hermione Granger is a straight A university student until she meets attractive and dangerous business heir Draco Malfoy. Their romance is one of nonsensical bewilderment, extravagance and the loss of dear Hermione's identity.
1. Chapter 1

**SHE THOUGHT HE PUT THE STARS IN THE SKY**

**SUMMARY:** AU. Hermione Granger is a straight A university student until she meets attractive and dangerous business heir Draco Malfoy. Their romance is one of nonsensical bewilderment, extravagance and the loss of dear Hermione's identity.

**CHAPTER 1:**

The library was her sanctuary, with the smell of old books, the silence and the cosy warmth – which was most welcome in the chilly weather of London. Her thick cable knit sweater rested on the seat beside her alongside her plain leather tote and her vintage manual camera. She had a digital inside as well, but always found herself preferring to work with film and the stench of the darkroom.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, so she marked her page in the thick history book with a ballpoint before checking the caller. It was her best friend, Harry. He had graduated a year ago and was now working at a national newspaper as a pictorial editor, although he also spent a lot of time photographing for the sports section. Hermione sighed, every time he called, especially when he knew that she would be studying, it was never anything good.

"Hi Harry," she whispered.

"Hermione, thank goodness you picked up," he said with a breath of relief, "I need a favour from you."

She smiled, "Well, I wouldn't have expected anything less, but you know that I'm drowning under assignments right now. The internship with Professor McGonagall's publishing house is up for grabs and I'm pretty sure she's only picking three people."

"You're the top of the class, I'm sure you'll be fine."

"You can't be too sure."

"Anyway, I need you to cover Ron's shift tonight." Ron was Hermione's other best friend from high school.

Hermione groaned, "Why do _I_ have to do it? I'm not even one of your staff. You have plenty of other photographers who could be doing this."

"I know Hermione but this is a big event and there's no one I can trust to get good shots more than you. If we miss out on this opportunity, the newspaper is going to hurt big and my head's going to be on the chopping board."

"What about Ron's head?"

This time, it was Harry's turn to groan, "My stupid boss has sent him over to freaking New York last minute to cover some stupid Justin Bieber album premier, so this is apparently my responsibility now."

"Fine, I'll do it."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, I'm pretty much done researching now anyway so I'll pop by your office and get the information off you."

She hung up the phone and slipped her sweater back on, hoisting her tote onto her thin shoulder. Although she was a quiet girl who preferred reading to movies, jazz music to pop music and knee length skirts to booty shorts, it seemed that her best friends really liked to get her into these kinds of situations. From the sounds of it, it was another big celebrity event that they needed her to cover and, the last time that this had happened, her friend Ginny had forced her into some kind of short tight red number from her fashion line that made it difficult to move, let alone dive through a sea of paparazzi.

Thinking about it, her friends probably enjoyed seeing Ginny's enthusiasm, as she was Ron's sister and Harry's fiancé, just as much as seeing her dressed up like some kind of high school hoochie. No doubt that she would be forced into yet another uncomfortable dress.

She was excited already. Not.

* * *

Arriving at the office, she could see that things really were completely hectic there. Everybody was rushing towards their deadlines and Hermione knew that the photographs she had to take tonight would most likely be needed tomorrow morning for the evening paper. All the people young and old, dressed in crumpled linen shirts and old business pants, ran around with stacks of paper documents, screaming into their iphones and staring furiously at their ipads. All the technology confused her for a moment as she wondered whether she really did spend too much time at libraries and vintage stores.

"Hermione, you're here!" exclaimed one of Harry's co-workers, "Harry's waiting for you in the office, do you remember the way?"

"Sure, thanks," she replied. She hurried past the identical brown desks with equally identical tired faces sitting at them to reach a glass door with a small gold panel on it. Harry Potter – it read. She didn't bother knocking as she entered the room, listening to make sure that her friend wasn't in the middle of a conference or a call.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed as he was standing, trying to fix his tie, "Listen, I'm in a bit of a hurry, I'm so sorry, but they've sprung some kind of Skype conference on me last minute but the guy's from Hong Kong or something so I can't miss it. Details for the shoot and your press pass are on the desk, and I just need the images in digital jpeg, resized, tomorrow morning."

As he ran out of the room mouthing his apologies, Hermione rolled her eyes, sarcastically thanking him for his instructions. Giving a sigh, she reached over his desk, completely covered in computer screens and post it notes, and found a few sheets of paper with her name written on top. There was also a small card on a lanyard labelled press.

In the past few months, she had probably become a lot more familiar with this card than she should have.

The sheet of paper she held in front of her listed addresses and times for a movie award ceremony and the official after party. There was also an extensive list of celebrity names that she had to make sure she paid particular attention to. At the bottom was a note from Harry.

_"Suss Celebs at Afterparty. Photo Op. NOTE."_

She chucked to herself, slipping the note into her bag, so he needed her to pap a bunch of scandals for him. Wonderful.

She headed out of the office knowing that her next stop was to go home and take a shower but she was dreading what her roommate Ginny was going to do to her.

* * *

Hermione was right.

As soon as she stepped into their loft, Ginny had already laid out a dozen different dresses, along with the matching accessories and shoes. "Hermione!" she exclaimed, still staying in her place and waving her arms wildly, "I need you in the shower right now and remember to use that hair stuff I bought you last week!"

She made a move to approach Ginny and to tell her that it wasn't necessary and that she was more than happy to wear her jeans, the good ones even! But before she could Ginny threw a towel at her.

"Don't come near me," she half shouted, "Shower! Right now or I can't let you be seen in my designs!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Hermione laughed. She locked the bathroom door behind her and began to slip off her clothes. Before she could step into the shower, there was a knock at her door. She wrapped the towel around her body and opened it to have Ginny shove a pair of matching underwear in her face. Light pink and incredibly silky. "Umm.. Gin, what's this for?"

"I'm not suggesting anything. I just need you to wear it so there's no underwear line."

Hermione laughed, taking the panties, "Trust you to think of something like this." She locked the door again as she listened to Ginny giggle and scurry towards the living room.

She removed the towel and stepped under the hot water, taking care to use the straightening shampoo that Ginny claimed was 'god sent' and the apparently delicious smelling body wash that she received for Christmas. To her, really, the shampoo just made her hair easier to deal with and the soap made her smell like some kind of awkward fruit salad but whatever it took to get Ginny off her back.

As she dried and fixed her hair, she listened to Ginny's impatient pacing outside of the bathroom. Unlocking the door, she left her friend in. Hermione was curling her hair with the straightener and Ginny gave her a quick once over.

"You know, Hermione, you should really just walk around in underwear more."

Hermione looked surprised, "What?"

"It's suits you.. the naked look."

"Don't tell me that's your plan for tonight?"

Ginny laughed, "Don't be silly! _You_ would never go for that, Miss Librarian Skirt and Gap jeans."

Hermione sarcastically flipped her friend off as they laughed, Ginny helping her curl the hair in the back, "You're so lucky, Gin."

"Why's that?"

"Well, not that I would _ever_ be interested, but you got a pretty good catch in Harry. He works a lot and he's a bit of a pain in my ass, but I can see the appeal. He's a dependable and honest dude."

"You could get one of them too, you know?"

Hermione chucked quietly, "Me? Never. You know I've never been the attractive one, not even back when we were in high school. Apparently, girls are supposed to be in their prime during their teens, but I never even made the cut to get asked out to prom."

"Ron asked you to prom," Ginny pointed out.

"Yeah but only a week before and only because he broke up with Lavender," she said, fixing a strand of hair in the front of her face, "You're the pretty one, and you know all this stuff about fashion and make up. Hell, if it weren't for you, I'd still be wearing my old overalls."

Her friend put the straightener down, unplugging it before giving Hermione's hair a final spritz of hairspray, "You'd probably be wearing grandmother underwear as well," she laughed, asking her to spin around, "But look at this! You're in Vicky's Secret now."

Hermione's eyes widened, "Since when did I own anything Victoria's Secret?"

"Since I went out and bought you a dozen sets this afternoon. There's only so long a girl can watch her best friend run around in Target's cotton underwear and not make a move."

Hermione sighed, typical Ginny.

"Anyway," she said, taking her friend's arm and pulling her out to the living room, still dressed in her sheer underwear, "Hurry up because there's a bunch of dresses for you to try on." As Ginny sorted through the different gowns in front of her, Hermione eyed them tentatively. There were so many inappropriate things she found on the garments – too low necklines, dipping backs and micro skirt lengths, but she knew that the more she complained, the worse the next hour was going to be.

With her friend throwing dress after dress to her, Hermione took the time to think about her life. Here was Ginny, not the brightest student in the class but definitely not dim witted, who had lived her life to the full. Who had fallen in love, fallen out of love and then fallen in again, got engaged and was really starting to build her career in the fashion industry. She hadn't achieved everything but she lived her youth. Then Hermione considered herself; never had a boyfriend and her last, and first, kiss was back in the fifth grade when a boy she couldn't remember kissed her as a dare. She was a virgin too and although she didn't find it shameful, there still weren't many girls ready to celebrate their twenty-first birthday who hadn't spent at least one night in someone else's bed.

She was smart, that she could definitely give herself. Coming top of her class as a writer and completely self-taught in photography, Hermione was also able to rattle on forever about British and French history. Her favourite books were classics that no one her age would ever pick up and she'd never been drunk, taken drugs or arrested. Overall, Hermione was a good intellectual girl, but for some reason she didn't feel like she was alive.

Then she remembered.

"Ginny, you know that final paper for McGonagall?" she asked as her best friend unzipped yet another shimmery number, deeming it unsuitable for the night.

Ginny nodded, "Yeah, what about it?"

"What are you writing about?"

Her busy hands paused as her eyes became distant and her cheeks flushed, which definitely meant that she was thinking about Harry, "Well, I'm actually writing about how Harry proposed. You know I wasn't so sure to begin with, but then I started thinking about all this marriage stuff and it was like I couldn't imagine it with anyone except for Harry."

Hermione sighed, "Trust you to turn a final paper into a soppy love story."

Ginny laughed, playfully slapping her friend, "Oh shut up, it'll be a romantic comedy at least!"

"I have no idea what to write about," said Hermione, collapsing on the one half of the sofa that wasn't covered in sequins or satin, "Every time I go to write something, I just get stuck. I keep feeling like I'm just repeating something I've read before."

Her friend smiled, "Well, I think that means that it's time to get out there and live a little." She picked up the final dress from the pile and held it up, smiling, "Come on Hermione, put this one on, I think it's going to be perfect."

As Ginny buttoned up the dress from behind, Hermione examined her reflection in the dark window. She smiled softly, it really was perfect. It had a fitted bodice and a flowy circle skirt, thick straps and a modest neckline. The dark maroon colour of the dress suited her perfectly and the button up back was a unique touch. She slid on the pair of nude heels that Ginny handed her and turned to her best friend, "You're a genius, you know that?"

"Only sometimes," she winked, fixing the back of the skirt, "And you look stunning, please tell me you're going to find yourself a nice, famous, smart guy tonight… the kind you deserve."

Hermione stared at herself again and wondered.

Could she?

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me," gasped Hermione. She stared at the crowd in front of her, the reserved sides for journalists were completely packed – men in their late twenties to the mid forties pushed against each other to get a good view of the celebrities.

Celebrities who had already started walking down the red carpet.

She swore at her outfit, there was no way she could get into that crowd like this. It was difficult enough for her to walk in the platform heels that she'd be put in, but to plough through all these men (typical – why weren't there more female reporters, anyway?) and maintain a strand of her dignity was impossible.

She looked at the camera in her hand and considered her choices: to jump her way into a crowd of sweaty and possibly perverted men or to potentially make her best friend lose his job.

She decided on the former.

* * *

After what felt like eons, Hermione had made her way nearly to the front of the crowd. Lights were flashing everywhere and the screaming teenage girls were no exactly comforting. She tried to snap decent photos of everyone that came out of a limousine, which was surprisingly easy considering how beautiful everybody was. A lot of the girls came in their most revealing dresses and the glitziest jewellery that they could find, both disgusting and amusing Hermione, but that was what the rich and famous did – try and get more rich and famous.

"I can't believe he came," gasped the reporter next to her. It was soft but audible enough for her ears.

Hermione bent forward to get a clear view of whoever everybody was screaming about (well, the girls were screaming) and the sight nearly took her breath away. It was Draco Malfoy, rich heir of Malfoy Enterprises and probably one of the most sought after bachelors in the world at the moment. His gold shimmering blonde hair was cleanly sleeked back and his perfect frame emphasized with a fitted black suit. His white shirt sat slightly open, giving him the perfect amount of sex appeal while still looking presentable.

Just two weeks ago there was a big scandal regarding him and his break up with a politician's daughter, it had been suggested that since the event, stock shares for his family's company had plummeted significantly. It also didn't help that it was an open secret in society that his father had a part in numerous drug trafficking cases but had never been caught. Nothing ever stopped their family from living luxuriously though.

Trying to get a photo of the social god, Hermione leaned forward once more. She suddenly felt a hand at her buttocks, a large masculine hand that had taken the chance to grope her. Snapping her head back, she instantaneously slapped the man, bearded and altogether quite sleazy looking, across the face, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed.

"The fuck was that for, bitch?" he screamed back, "I'm just trying to take a goddamn picture," he added, acting innocent.

"The hell you were," she screamed back, "If I didn't stop you just then you'd have stuck your grimy hands down my fucking panties."

"Problem, miss?" a voice asked from behind her.

Hermione turned to see Draco Malfoy, not having realized that he, noticing the commotion, had come across the carpet. Up close, she could see that his grey eyes were flecked with blue and that his lips were the most sensuous she had ever seen. He also had a tiny birth mark on the lower side of his neck, almost shaped like a lightning bolt. "Um…"

Draco smiled slightly, "Are you okay, Miss?"

Snapping out of her thoughts, Hermione spoke, "I'm fine, thank you, Mr Malfoy."

"Are you a reporter?"

"Yes, I'm with the Mirror."

Draco suddenly took her wrist and lifted the rope separating them, "Come join me tonight, miss. You are dressed much too well to be in a crowd of these men."

"Well, um, I don't think that's a good idea, sir. I, um, have a deadline to meet with the photos."

"So I'll give you an exclusive," he smirked, "and I'll make sure you get photos of everyone."

Not waiting for a reply, he led her down the red carpet, Hermione being blinded by the camera flashes. She reminded herself that, the next time she got a bad photo of a celebrity, she wouldn't laugh at them, this was difficult.

Before entering the hall, Hermione heard Draco turn to the bodyguard and whisper, "That reporter from the Times that harassed this young lady, I need him out of here immediately. Block all photos for that publication."

He silently nodded, leaving to do his bidding.

They walked in silence for a while, before he abruptly stopped, turning to face her, "What's your name?" His voice wasn't soft and kind like it was outside, but rather commanding – soft but intimidatingly so.

"Hermione Granger, sir," she replied.

"Nice to meet you Hermione Granger," he said, lightly touching the necklace around her neck, "Looks like you're stuck with me tonight."

* * *

**A/N**: _Thank you so much for reading the first chapter. Please bear with me if posts are a bit slow as I am a uni student and a freelance photographer so I do a lot of work. The idea of the boys working at a newspaper was inspired by my internship at a national paper and, well, I hope it comes across well. The publications are fictionalized and none of it is true, and I am treating the university like it is Australian (as that's the system I know). Also, I'm making up a lot of London, so know that that is not meant to be 'correct' either. The birth mark is a symbol, not something magical, but you may figure it out later._


	2. Chapter 2

**SHE THOUGHT HE PUT THE STARS IN THE SKY**

**SUMMARY:** AU. Hermione Granger is a straight A university student until she meets attractive and dangerous business heir Draco Malfoy. Their romance is one of nonsensical bewilderment, extravagance and the loss of dear Hermione's identity.

**CHAPTER 2:**

Hermione felt her cheeks flush as she stared at the ground, trying to ignore the steady grey eyes watching her. It was the first time a man had ever said anything so flirtatious to her and, although she knew that there was no way he meant it in that context, she couldn't help reacting to his husky voice and attractively forceful manner. "You didn't have to help me, Mr Malfoy," she said, "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and I'm sure you have much more important things to take care of tonight."

"Of course I do," he said, surprising her.

She looked up, it wasn't the polite answer she had expected, "Sorry?"

A slight smile appeared on his lips, "I said I do have more important things to take care of, but that doesn't mean that I won't follow through with my promise."

"Promise?"

"Well, I told you that I would give you an exclusive, didn't I? And that I would make sure you got photos of every person here?"

"Yes but-"

"And you realize that we just walked down a red carpet hand in hand?"

Hermione paused, there was a lot of truth in that. Although others may not have known exactly what would have happened, a good dozen newspapers and blogs would most likely be posting about Draco's apparent new squeeze who he fished out of a crowd of photographers. She sighed; this was an awkward position for her to be in.

Draco smirked, "It would be rude of me not to show my date around."

Before Hermione had the chance to protest, he took her hand again and lead her through a curtain doorway to reveal a vast room, decorated with strands of Swarovski crystal. There were an uncountable number of tables, all with a small name tags in front of them, telling everybody their seat number.

A tall, beautiful girl approached them holding a clipboard and a pen. Her short black dress clung to her body in a way that only a model, or in this case an upcoming model, could possible pull off. "Mr Malfoy," she greeted, choosing to ignore Hermione, "You're sitting at table 12, right over there." She pointed towards a direction near the front.

"Move whoever is next to me, I have a plus one tonight," he said, barely glancing at her.

"But um, it says here that you're…" she stuttered.

"Then it says wrong." Draco headed towards the front, pulling Hermione with him. He looked at the name of the person next to him, the name of a B-list actress, and tossed the tag to the side. He pulled out the chair and signalled for Hermione to sit.

Awkwardly she took the seat, taking care to fix her skirt beneath her and to place her camera gently on the table, "Thank you," she said, "but isn't it kind of wrong? I mean, someone else was supposed to be here. This could cause them a lot of trouble, wouldn't it?"

Draco chucked, "It doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

The awards show was altogether too boring for Hermione to handle. She took as many photos as she could, while avoiding the use of flash of course, but the sheer fact that she didn't know most of the people made it feel useless to her. Girls were going up on stage to present thank you speeches as fake as their chests and boys were pretending to be gentlemen in the bid to win the hearts of their viewers. It was a tedious thing but it was, for tonight at least, her job.

She was a lot more curious about Draco Malfoy who was sitting beside her. Most of the time, he had his eyes locked onto his iPhone, tweeting away or replying to messages from business associates (or girls, no doubt). In other moments, he would be watching her work with a slight smile on his face that told her that he found her amusing somehow. Draco wasn't the only person who watched her though. For most of the night, she felt like everybody was staring at her.

Nobody knew who she was, but the fact that she was there as Draco's date meant that she had to be someone.

As the ceremony finished with a musical performance, Draco turned and whispered in her ear, "Did you have fun?"

Hermione smiled timidly, shrugging her shoulders as to say not really.

Draco laughed and Hermione felt her heart pump in her chest, he really was too handsome for words. He took her hand and they stood, exiting the room quietly, "I thought all you girls were the same."

"What do you mean?"

He stopped and watched her for a minute, "Nothing really. You're intriguing."

She squirmed a little, not used to words that made her feel this way, "Not really, I'm just another girl."

"Just another girl who'll go to the after party with me?" As he asked, he leaned into her, pulling her in at the waist. His hands were once again touching the delicate necklace, a silver chain with a tiny music note, around her necklace.

The contact sent shivers down her spine and she felt as though she were falling under some kind of spell. Suddenly snapped out of her thoughts, she pushed with away. Her cheeks were still flushed and tingles running up and down her spine, "I'm sorry, Mr Malfoy," she apologized, "I really must go now."

She hurried out of the room, not daring to look back at him for fear of giving in. Becoming attracted to a rich heir was not something that she intended on doing and she definitely did not want to become another of his 'girls' at some kind of party (oh but a part of her wanted that so much). Hermione quickly pulled out of her phone as she stepped into a taxi.

'_Not covering after party'_ she texted, _'Sorry will tell you tomorrow.'_ She send the message to Harry and then breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a long night.

* * *

"Hermione Jean Granger!" a voice rang into her dreams and she knew exactly who it was.

"What?" she groaned, "I sent Harry the damn photos last night."

"Trust you to be that much earlier than your deadline," Ginny laughed, "But seriously, as your best girlfriend in the world, I can't believe you didn't tell me this sooner!"

She sat up in bed, rubbing her tired eyes and giving a yawn, "What are you talking about?" An iPad was thrust in front of her face and she attempted to orientate herself – she was bad enough at using technology when she was wide awake, being half asleep made her pathetic. As her eyes focused, she read what was on the screen.

_Heir of Malfoy Enterprises, DRACO MALFOY, 24, stunned onlookers last night as he pulled a date from a crowd of paparazzi. It is suggested that he had saved the girl from harassment before taking her on as a date. The name of the girl in question, a stunning beauty, is unknown as the press office declined any comment this morning. It is understood that she was not a permanent member of staff, but rather a freelancer._

_ Girls nationwide are weeping-_

Hermione could barely believe what she was reading. The events of last night were all over the internet, as were photos of her being walked down the red carpet by Draco. Her face was not the most prominent as she was staring at the feet in every shot, but it was definitely embarrassing.

Ginny had the widest smile on her face.

"What are you smiling at?" Hermione grumbled.

"I told you to do and find yourself a nice rich man last night and you finally listened to me."

"It's not like that at all," Hermione said, waving her arms, "There was some scum trying to grope me in the crowd and Mr Malfoy just stopped him for me."

Ginny giggled, "Oh, so it's still Mr Malfoy?"

Hermione smacked her arm playfully, "Oh shush, Ginny. You know I'm not like that."

"Like what?"

"The whole famous, rich guy thing doesn't do it for me."

"Doesn't like?" asked Ginny, cocking her head to the side, "I mean, you've never exactly tried this out, so how do you know that you don't like it?"

Hermione fell back onto her pillow, "Because it shouldn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Cathy didn't fall in love with Heathcliff because he had money. In fact, she tried to stop loving him, even when he came back rich."

"Your life isn't exactly Wuthering Heights, 'Mione," said Ginny, lying down beside her, "Sometimes, it's okay to run after the diamond and rubies."

"I don't think that's right Ginny," she said, "I don't think money could ever win me over."

And that was what she really though then.

Honest.

* * *

Everyone was watching her again.

Hermione squirmed awkwardly in her seat. Although she was still anonymous online, anybody who had seen the posts would know she was the girl and, by this evening's newspaper, most people in the country would know who her. She didn't like the attention but, thankfully, nobody approached her to ask her questions about the Malfoy.

As class was dismissed, she wrapped her scarf around her neck again and headed for the entrance.

"Miss Granger," called Professor McGonagall, "Can I speak to you for a minute?"

"Sure," replied Hermione, approaching the front desk, "What did you want to speak to me about, professor?"

_Please don't be the gossip blog, please don't be the gossip blog, please don't be the gossip blog._

"I wanted to ask you about the final paper."

_Thank god._

"What about it?" said Hermione, fixing her messenger bag.

"Do you know what you're writing about yet?"

"Not really," she bit her bottom lip, "I've been trying to work that out but every time I sit down and start, I just get stuck."

"Miss Granger, you're the best student I have," McGonagall leaned forward in her seat, "but I can tell that you're struggling with this. Your writing is always of the highest standard but there's still something missing in it, and that's why you're having difficulty."

"What's missing, professor?"

"Life," she replied simply, smiling, "Your writing is perfect, but it's too perfect, too researched and sits almost like an encyclopaedia. There's nothing wrong with that, but if you want to do fiction, Granger, you need to take some risks."

Hermione nodded, although still not completely understanding what had been said, "Yes, professor."

"And this thing that's going on about you on the internet," McGonagall winked uncharacteristically, "Feels like the perfect chance to take a bit of a risk."

Hermione thanked her for her advice and excused herself, staring at her feet deep in thought as she exited the room. She accidentally walked straight into another person and quickly apologized. However, as she looked up she realized that it wasn't just anybody.

She had walked right into Draco Malfoy.

* * *

She handed him a coffee, taking a seat beside him on the park bench. Realizing that he had come in search for her, she had dragged him here where there were less students around.

"How did you find me?" she asked.

Draco cocked an eyebrow, "I called up the newspaper and asked for you."

"But they don't know who I am."

"No they didn't," he replied, leaning back and taking a sip from his cup, "So I went there myself and found the pictorial editor, this man named Harry, who told me where to find you."

"So you went to all this trouble to find me?" asked Hermione, "Why?"

Draco leaned his face in to hers as though he were to suddenly kiss her. Hermione could feel his breath on her face, and she could smell his aftershave; a clean and masculine scent that was probably much too expensive to be sold at the department store where she bought her perfume. Although very blonde, she noticed that his eyes were oddly lined with long dark eyelashes and that his pale skin flushed slightly in the cold.

"You left something back at the show," he said quietly.

Hermione felt herself subconsciously lean forward, wishing that she could taste his lips on hers just once, "What did I leave?" she asked, hoping that her soft tone of voice was seductive and not awkward.

Draco smirked, "The exclusive."

She blinked, coming out of her daydream, "The what?"

"I promised you an exclusive interview for your paper."

"Oh, it's not my paper," she explained, "I was just doing a favour for my friend that you meant. I'm not a journalist or anything."

"So you lied to me," Draco said, looking at her with jokingly suspicious eyes, "You deceitful woman."

Hermione laughed, "I'm not being deceitful, and you're the one who pulled me in out of nowhere. Now I'm all over the internet and I don't even know what I've done!"

He smiled softly, "You intrigued me."

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, "What?"

"That's what you've done to get all this attention – you intrigued me."

For a second she was speechless, but then she left a small smile play on her lips, "And do all girls who intrigue you get this kind of attention?" She could barely believe it but she was flirting with Draco Malfoy – for the first time in her life, she was flirting with someone and not making an embarrassment out of herself.

However, it wasn't because she was interested in him at all. (right?)

"Only the beautiful ones," he said, picking up her hand and planting a gentle kiss on it, "Miss Granger, do you happen to be falling for me?"

Hermione laughed, "Falling for you? I think you have the wrong impression of me."

He smiled, "So educate me, what is the right impression?"

"I don't play your games," she said, "Your gossip sites, big limousines and expensive clothes – I don't like it."

"Not how you roll?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Hermione narrowed her eyes playfully, "Yes, exactly."

"I have a proposition for you, Miss Granger," he said.

Hermione liked the way he said Granger in his husky voice. "And what might that be?" she said, looking at her feet once more. She didn't dare look at his eyes again, for fear that the beautiful grey might engulf her entirely.

"Go out with me."

She snapped her head in his direction, "What did you just say?"

"Three dates," he said, "And if you haven't fallen in love with me by the third date, you win."

"And why would I take you up on this challenge?"

"Because we're not as different as you think," he said, "I can tell you want a change, you're not exactly happy with your life right now but you don't know what you want. You know deep down that, by giving me this chance, you might find something."

Hermione considered it, watching his blonde hair, now loose, blowing with the wind. He was right, she wasn't particularly happy with her life and she did want a change. However, this change being a lifestyle with the rich and famous wasn't exactly what she had in mind. Draco was attractive, yes, but she knew that he was only interested in her right now because she was fresh – give him two weeks and he wouldn't even remember her name anymore.

You need to take some risks – she remembered what Professor McGonagall had said to her.

Maybe she was right, maybe she had lived for much too long in her comfort zone. Maybe she should give this a chance.

She took a deep breath.

"Fine," she said, "but three dates, no more than that."

Draco stood, "I'll pick you up at eight then."

"What?"

"Tonight, eight pm," he winked before he strolled away, "I'm taking you out."

* * *

Hermione went home early from class that morning but didn't go home. Instead, she found that her feet led their way to Ginny's studio. Entering, she realized that she hadn't been in there in a while; she had been spending so much time at the library that she almost forgot the sound of the whirring machines and the stretches of fabric that constantly covered the ground.

Ginny saw her from her design desk and came to greet her, dressed impeccably in a pair of black knee high boots, dark blue jeans and a perfectly fitted light pink blazer, "Visiting me?" She smiled.

"I need your help," Hermione said.

She looked confused as she searched her friend's face for clues. Her expression was one of worry, "You never ask for my help unless it's something serious. What happened?"

"What do you wear for a date with Draco Malfoy?"

* * *

**A/N: **_Thank you once again for reading! Remember to R+R!_


	3. Chapter 3

**SHE THOUGHT HE PUT THE STARS IN THE SKY**

**SUMMARY:** AU. Hermione Granger is a straight A university student until she meets attractive and dangerous business heir Draco Malfoy. Their romance is one of nonsensical bewilderment, extravagance and the loss of dear Hermione's identity.

**CHAPTER 3:**

Ginny's eyes widened with surprised, "What do you mean Draco Malfoy?"

"He asked me out on a date – well, three to be exact."

"How did he manage to do that?" By that time, the other two machinists had stopped their work to listen in. Malfoy wasn't exactly a common or unknown name after all.

Hermione sighed, "Harry told him where to find me and he came to campus. I practically walked right into him."

Ginny laughed, "Sounds enough like you, but wow. This is amazing."

"What is?"

"Your first proper date and it's with a near billionaire," she replied, leading Hermione into her design room, "Did he tell you where you're going?"

She shook her head, "Not at all, all he said was 8pm. I don't know how he would even know where to pick me up from." She looked around the room, which hadn't changed much since.. well, ever. The walls were still covered in magazine rip outs and sketches, and there was an entire cork board full of photos from Ginny's past fashion shows – for inspiration, no doubt.

"Well, I assume he has his ways," Ginny eyed her up and down.

"What kind of way, but?" Hermione said, "Unless he breaks into the school system or something, and that's kind of creepy. I guess there's a chance that Harry would have told him too or he could just pay someone at the front desk."

As though ignoring her friend's train of thoughts, Ginny hurried towards a clothes rack and pulled out a few different pieces, "Pastel, I definitely think you need pastel," She threw a few skirts at Hermione, "Don't be shy. Just try these on."

As Ginny went to pull the blinds shut, Hermione eyed the clothing that she was given, "Pink? Light blue? Isn't date material supposed to be like.. red or black or something equally as sexy?"

Ginny laughed, "You know just as well as I do that you don't do sexy, and plus, pastels can be sexy in a subtle way. I think it suits you and it doesn't give him the wrong impression."

"Wrong impression?" Hermione laughed, "You think that he's going to get the impression that I _don't_ want him just because I'm not wearing a black dress?"

"So you _do_ want him?" Ginny raised an eyebrow, "What happened to the whole talk this morning about how you don't date rich guys?"

"I don't!" she insisted, "I don't _want_ him or anything, I'm just doing this to take a risk!"

"Take a risk?"

"McGonagall's words; apparently my writing is too safe and lifeless."

"Sounds like a perfectly legitimate reason to date one of the wealthiest bachelors around," said Ginny sarcastically, "So are you going to try them on or not?"

Hermione sighed and began to pull the dresses on but most of the time Ginny pulled them right off her before she even had the chance to zip it up. She claimed that it looked too 'girly' on her or, when she tried on a white eyelet lace shift dress, too 'virginal'. Her friend's mind seemed to work very differently to hers, but it was all the better since she was completely clueless.

As she pulled on a pastel pink fitted skirt on top of a sheer peter pan collar top, Ginny gasped. "It's perfect," she claimed.

"Really?" said Hermione, who couldn't see in the mirror as it was too far away.

"It will be," smiled Ginny, "Once you get home and put on that blue underwear set I bought you."

* * *

_I can't believe it_.

Hermione, in her exhaustion last night, had come home and collapsed in her bed immediately, not paying any attention to what had been left out. There were a bunch of shopping bags sitting at the foot of her bed, all labelled 'Victoria's Secret'. Thankfully, Ginny had taken her tastes into consideration and hadn't bought her anything too revealing, but everything was a lot more sensual than she was used it.

She found the light blue bra set; made completely out of lace but not see-through, paired with a frilly pair of boy leg underwear. Definitely more sexy than anything she had ever worn (aside from that pink number she was thrown into last night) but still cute enough to suit her.

She wore it over the outfit that Ginny had given her and found out that her best friend was, once again, completely and utterly right. The sheer fabric of the white top didn't reveal too much of the bra, but only hinted at the blue to make it subtly suggestive, and the pink skirt was both feminine and ladylike. Realizing the time, she quickly undid her ponytail and curled her hair, messing it up just slightly with her fingertips.

She smiled, thinking that it was odd that she was becoming more and more like Ginny – in a good way, of course.

The doorbell buzzed, so Hermione ran to the front door, checking the screen. Draco Malfoy was standing outside, dressed handsomely in a light grey shirt, open at the collar, and a pair of perfectly fitted jeans. His hair hung loosely and his hands were in his pockets – casual but oh so attractive.

She quickly fixed her hair, pulled her white coat over herself and picked up her handbag before opening the door, smiling in a way that she hoped wasn't too chirpy, "Hi, Mr Malfoy."

He smirked, "Mr Malfoy? I would have hoped that we were through with the formalities already, Miss Granger."

Hermione laughed, "I hope you realized how ironic that was."

"Indeed, ironic humour is one of my finer traits," he said, casually running his fingers through his hair, "Are you ready to go?"

"Umm, yes I think so," she replied, "Where are we going?"

He looked at her little purse, almost ignoring her question, "You didn't pack anything?"

"Pack anything?" she asked, taken aback, "Why would I need to pack something?"

"I'll have Vincent pick up some things for you. Lock your door."

"Where are you going?"

He suddenly leaned his head forward, pulling the door shut behind her so that her body was fully pressed against his. She was trapped.

"Lock your door, Miss Granger," he said, in an almost quietly threatening way, "Or I might ask the driver to just leave us here."

Feeling her heart thump in her chest and her face burn up, she stuttered, "Umm.. okay."

Draco released her, going back to a straight standing position, "Come on now, Hermione," he winked with a sudden change in mood, "We don't have all night."

Taking a few moments to stop her heart from pounding (he was _so_ close and he even called her Hermione, what was with that?) she pulled her keys out from her bag and locked it, listening to the soft click in the silence of the hallway.

"So where to now, Mr Malfoy?" she asked in an almost whisper, her back still facing him.

"Paris, my dear."

* * *

There was a chauffeured Rolls Royce waiting for them downstairs. Two men, one presumably a driver and the other some form of a bodyguard, waited for them with the latter opening the door for Hermione. Unsure of what to do, she silently slid herself into the backseat, followed shortly by Draco.

"Vincent," he said, "I need a change of clothes brought to the Paris hotel for Miss Granger tomorrow morning. Send it in with the housemaid and tell her not to wake anyone."

The 'bodyguard' nodded his head, speaking incomprehensibly into his earpiece.

"You know," said Hermione, a little more timid than she usually was, "When I said okay to a date, I meant a few hours max at a restaurant, maybe a movie screening… I wasn't exactly agreeing to an overnight stay in another country. And it's already eight thirty. It would be much too late by the time we arrive."

He chuckled, "You're so naïve."

"Excuse me," Hermione scoffed, "I am by no means naïve, it seems like you're the one that's naïve, expecting to get me to Paris for one date-"

"I'm not expecting, I am demanding," he spoke softly again, "And you seem to have forgotten that I'm a Malfoy and while this should not be any basis for the quality of my personality, it does mean that my family has acquired more wealth than most people will in a lifetime."

The atmosphere was tense and Hermione grew quiet, something that seemed to be happening a lot more often with Draco than it did with anybody else. He was an odd man, at times flirtatious and suddenly intimidating, authoritarian at best. He did seem arrogant at times, but not because he thought too highly of himself. Instead, it seemed to be because it was just simply fact that his family was, indeed, at the top of the food chain.

"And so you see, dear Miss Granger," he said, an almost smile playing on his lips, "There's no such thing as too late for me."

* * *

Hermione was expecting that they would pull up by the Eurostar but instead found herself in the private sector of a small airport. "What are we doing here?" she asked, "You don't mean we're getting a plane to Paris, right?"

"Well," his smile was practically dripping with sarcasm, "I like to call it a jet, and you really should too." He took her small hand, warming it instantly, and led her through a glass door. He nodded to the air hostess and they were immediately led to a small set of metal stairs, leading into a small jet plane.

All this time Hermione was quiet, unsure about what to say. She had never been on a date before, let alone one that resulted in her riding in a private jet to another country. However, as soon as she ascending the stairs and was welcomed in, she felt truly speechless.

The seats, built in pairs, were covered in rich beige leather. An air hostess was in the process of laying out faux fur blankets, as, god forbid, anybody might be cold in the temperature controlled aircraft. Draco took his seat and signed for Hermione to sit beside him, by the window.

"Have you been on a jet before?" he asked.

"Umm, no not really," Hermione replied, avoiding his eyes, "I've been on a commercial plane back when I was a kid, but we were flying economy so.. I guess this is different."

He chuckled, "What's economy like?"

She looked at him, searching his face for a sign that he was teasing him, but he looked genuinely curious, "Um, economy? I guess it's not as comfortable. I mean, the seats are a lot smaller and there are a lot of them, so you usually get the little kid sitting behind you who keeps kicking you. Sometimes there are babies that cry for the entire trip too! The seat are made of this fabric that's a little itchy and…" She trailed off, her cheeked flushing. She was sitting here with one of the richest men in the world and was telling him about economy seating in a commercial airplane, "My life sounds meagre compared to yours, doesn't it?"

"It does," he replied.

Once again, he had delivered a response that was completely unlike what she was expecting.

Draco leaned back in his seat, smiling, "But it's interesting."

"Interesting? Why so?"

"Because, if you were with me, you'd never have to live like that again."

"That's not really how it works, Mr Malfoy," she chucked awkwardly, "I like my lifestyle. I work a part time job to support myself, I share an apartment with my best friend and, most of the time, I run out of clean clothes to wear. In fact, sometimes we run out of food to eat in the fridge too. It's not poverty, although it obviously seems like that to you, it's just life."

That's what it was.

Just life.

Breaking the silence, the hostess appeared carrying a tray with a bottle and two wine glasses, "Champagne, Sir? Miss?"

"No thanks," said Hermione politely, "I don't drink."

Draco smiled, "Just get her tea please. I think she'll enjoy the sakura sencha."

As the air hostess bowed and disappeared, Draco spoke again, "I should have expected that."

"Expected what?"

"For you to be a non-drinker; you have it written all over your face."

"I honestly have no idea what you mean," insisted Hermione, crossing her arms even though she did know what he meant.

"Let me guess, you've never drank before, never done drugs and you've probably never been kissed before," he smirked, locking eyes with her, "Am I right?"

"Not at all," she replied, "I had my first kiss in high school."

"Have you ever been kissed since then?"

"Of course I have," she lied, "Don't assume things about me."

"Oh but I will," Draco said, "Liar."

* * *

The restaurant was even more beautiful than the flight.

As soon as she and Draco were shown in and given a private area, Hermione couldn't help but wish that she had been able to bring her camera with her. The walls are painted a rich cream with gold accents and they were seated beside a window that seemed to recede into the ceiling, providing them the most beautiful view of the city.

"Wow," she said under her breath.

"It's quite nice, isn't it?" said Draco, as though their current eating arrangements were only just above casual for him, "I was hoping to get us into the 'princesse de jardin' but it seemed a little rude to ask that they cancel another person's booking just for our little date."

"You mean there exists something more beautiful than this view?" she chuckled, "And here I was just mentally stabbing myself for not bringing my camera."

He was quiet for a moment, watching her look out the window. Her curls framed her face perfectly and the light from the candle's flame danced on her porcelain skin. Hermione's round, innocent brown eyes sparkled with amazement.

"There is something.." he said.

"You."

She blushed, stammering, "Thank you, Mr Malfoy."

He laced his fingers together, resting his pale face on them, "I _do_ have a name you know." When Hermione remained silent, he spoke again, "But you may use it when you find yourself comfortable."

"Who said I'm uncomfortable?"

"Your face does, every time I say something remotely nice about you."

She looked around, searching for an excuse, "It's not that, it's just warmer in here than anywhere else in London," she pretended to fan herself with her hand, "It is a little stuffy."

Draco laughed, "Dear.. you are amusing."

Hermione sighed, yes, amusing – that was definitely what she was.

The waiter arrived at just that time, wearing a clean black and white tuxedo that Hermione thought made him look like a scampering penguin, "Would you like to order Mr Malfoy? Miss Granger?"

Hermione's eyes widened, taken aback that he had addressed her by name, "Umm.. right." She picked up the menu, thankful that she had learnt French when she was younger.

"The foie gras for an appetizer and then the filet mignon," ordered Draco, without even a glance at the menu.

"Umm.. could I get the escargots and then the poulet roti, please?" Hermione asked as politely as she could.

"Of course," the waiter replied, bowing as he disappeared into the kitchen.

"So you read French," said Draco, leaning forward in his seat, "What else do I have to learn about you?"

Hermione smiled, "You barely know me, so quite a bit."

"Amuse me," a playful smile appeared on his face.

"I don't think you'll find it very riveting, Mr Malfoy," she said, "Compared to your escapades, most of my life has been like another episode of I Love Lucy."

"I don't mind black and white television."

"Why don't we talk about you instead?" Hermione asked, "I think you'll have more exciting things to talk about."

"I'm tired of talking about myself, you know all about me that you need. I want to know about you," said Draco. The way in which he spoke, gently but simultaneously forceful, suggested that this topic was not open for discussion.

It was at this moment that Hermione realized how little she actually knew about Draco Malfoy. As much as she had read about him in the papers, he really was a mysterious man and probably the most secretive she had ever met. She hated to admit it, but this time she was intrigued by him as well. She found herself wishing to open him like one of her library books, to find out what time him tick and to memorize his story from the beginning to the end.

But he wasn't about to allow her to do that.

Not that easily.

* * *

Hermione looked out the window of the black car, what model it was, she had no idea. She assumed that the car had been hired or was being kept in Paris, although she wasn't surprised as she was already beginning to get used to his extravagant life style. She smiled lightly, seeing the couples stroll down the streets hand in hand. The scene reminded her of her favourite Audrey Hepburn movie and she sighed, wishing that that kind of old fashioned romance could exist in her life.

"Stop the car," said Draco.

"What's the matter?"

"You wanted to take a walk, didn't you?" he said, smiling, "It's written all over your face."

And so the door was opened and Draco reached for her hand. Instead, Hermione wrapped her arm around his, resting her hands in his warm coat pocket. They walked in silence, breathing in the cold night air.

Hermione found herself wishing that it would never end.

* * *

"Ginny?" she said into the phone.

Hermione was pacing her way around her hotel suite, still wearing her clothes. The interior was stunning, furnished in a Victorian style, with full arm chairs and a four poster bed. The sheets looked heavy and, upon touching them, she realized that they were the finest that she had ever felt.

"Hermione, where _are_ you?" her friend replied back, sounding worried, "It's hours past midnight already, no dinner can possibly take this long!"

"I know, Gin. I'm in a suite and the hotel 'Le Royal Monceau' over in Paris, I don't think I'm going to be home until later tomorrow afternoon at least."

"Wait, you're in a hotel?" exclaimed Ginny, "In _Paris_?"

"I know, I can barely believe it myself."

"But Hermione, it's only the first date. I don't think you should be-"

"**NO!**" she said, eyes wide, "It's not like that at all, he's in another suite next door. I have this one to myself."

Ginny breathed an audible sigh of relief, "At least he's a gentleman. But wow, first date in Paris, huh? You're definitely taking a risk like McGonagall wanted you to."

"I know," Hermione laughed, "She's not going to believe this."

"So what do you think of Draco?"

"Hmm," she considered it, "He's an odd guy. I don't know if I understand him at all, one minute he's a complete flirt and at others, he just scares me."

"Scares you?"

"Yes, it's like if I step one toe out of line, he might just snap me in half."

Ginny laughed, "I think snapping you in half is the last thing that he wants to do."

"Probably," Hermione smiled, "But in the end, he and I are still too different. He takes a girl out and he's flying her to another country via private jet, treating some beautiful five star restaurant as second choice and.. well, he does it so offhandedly too! As though it's just another night for him."

"But he's Draco Malfoy," Ginny pointed out, "It probably _is_ just another night for him."

"I know, but that's why I don't think I could be with him in that way. He's attractive and everything but he's just too wealthy, too different.

I'm just not like that."

* * *

That night Hermione dreamt of Paris – the lights, the romance and the beauty of the city.

She dreamt that she never wanted to leave.

And she never had to.

* * *

**A/N:** _Thank you to the great response to the last two chapters everyone and I hope this didn't disappoint anyone. I tried to research a little into Paris but I really don't know anything French. I hope it was accurate enough (although the ordering at the restaurant might have come across quite oddly). Now to answer a few questions from my readers:_

_BeWhoYouAre99 – I'm not too sure about the length of this fanfiction but I'm aiming for around 12 – 15 chapters, although it could easily be longer or shorter. I know how the story will end, although I'm still contemplating some things, and certain events and plot lines are still forming in my head as I try to sleep! I hope you can bear with me for now._

_Atlantean Diva: I did mess around with the ages a little bit here. I should probably let everybody know that Hermione and Ginny are 21 (in their final year at University), Harry and Ron are 22 and are in their first year working at the paper. All of them went to high school together. Draco, on the other hand, is around 24 and didn't attend college or university. He's more of a socialite and doesn't have much of an occupation, although he's actually more business savvy than we can give him credit for. Crabbe and Goyle, if you picked it up, work for Draco and are his bodyguard and driver interchangeably – they're a lot older at around their mid 30s. I had to really think about changing their ages so much, but I thought that it was perfect for the dynamic that I wanted with Draco being the rich, older potential suitor. Also, we will be seeing and learning a lot more about Draco, but that is with time. Keep noticing some little symbols and things, maybe you might learn thigs about Draco before Hermione does!_

_So thank you so much to everybody for the reviews and please do keep reading and, of course, reviewing! I'm looking forward to reading more messages and answering some more of your questions. I'd really like to answer everybody in a PM but I have no idea how to do that (when it comes to , I'm a lot like a clueless like Hermione)._


	4. Chapter 4

**SHE THOUGHT HE PUT THE STARS IN THE SKY**

**SUMMARY:** AU. Hermione Granger is a straight A university student until she meets attractive and dangerous business heir Draco Malfoy. Their romance is one of nonsensical bewilderment, extravagance and the loss of dear Hermione's identity.

**CHAPTER 4:**

As he locked the door behind him, it was as though all the happiness of the night drained away. That was how it usually was for him.

The dimmed lights looked darker than usual and, no matter how warm the air was, there was still a chill in his chest that he couldn't erase. Lying in bed, his head supported by his hands, Draco thought about the date and the amazement in Hermione's eyes. Remembering the splendour of the candle light on her face, he smiled – she really was beautiful. Not in a way that made him want to bed her, but in a way that made him want to keep her.

If she were a nightingale, he would put her in the finest cage he could find and feed her caviar and Italian spring water. That was the kind of treatment she deserved, not rented apartments and economy flights. She was a princess, someone who should be British royalty, not one of the crown jewels but the crown in its entirety.

"You're an odd girl," he said, as though speaking to her, "But there's something quite amusing about you."

He closed his eyes, for once in his life not dreaming about pain and blood, but rather a how Hermione would fit into his lifestyle of luxury, something seamless and perfect. Controlled.

It was simple to him. He wanted her to live beautifully.

Even if it cost him.

His phone vibrated in the dim lighting, blinding his relaxed eyes. The personalized ringtone, a foreboding classical number, told him exactly who it was. He hesitated for a moment, hoping that the caller would hang up himself, but no such luck. He answered.

"Draco," barked a man's coarse voice, "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm in Paris, father," he replied, his voice polite and restrained.

He scoffed, "Paris? What are you doing there?"

"I had some business to take care of."

"Well, you have some business to take care of back here too. Accounts just sent me a message and there's some American incorporation under your name? You care to explain that?"

"Not particularly, no," he said. Draco tried to keep his voice as level as he possibly could, but his hands were shaking and cold sweat broke over his forehead.

"You son of a bitch," spat his father, "You think that you can-"

"I'm going to bed," replied Draco, daring to hang up the phone while his father was in the middle of shouting. No doubt he would not hear the end of it tomorrow, and no doubt the asshole would be waiting for him outside his place – even if he lived separately.

He went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, wiping it clean. He detested this side of himself, the cowardly filth that was sent into panic mode just because an old man was angered at his actions.

He hated it.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione found two bags at the foot of her bed. She assumed they were left there by the maid, but how she had managed to do it so quietly was beyond her.

Opening them and laying out the clothes, she couldn't help her cheeks flushing. Draco's bodyguard had gone out either this morning or last night to pick up a change of clothes for her, but she didn't expect him to also buy her new underwear. Looking at the label carefully, she noticed a small tag that read 'Agent Provocateur'.

Great. He bought her expensive and extremely sexy underwear.

Thankfully, the rest of the things were a lot more modest – a pair of Calvin Klein jeans and a white blouse from Chanel. Hermione shook her head; only these people would go to Chanel to buy a plain white top.

As she showered and changed though, she noticed what a difference everything made to her. The underwear, although quite cheeky, wasn't noticeable to anybody but herself. It was like a personal secret and made her feel particularly flirty.

The jeans hugged her waist and thighs perfectly, and the blouse felt so soft against her skin, she wished to never have to wear anything else again.

"It's just money though," she whispered, "I could've gotten the same thing at the Gap, I think."

There was a knock at her door.

"Coming!" she called, quickly tying her hair up in a ponytail.

She opened the door to find Draco, dressed to perfection even at seven in the morning. His hair was perfectly ruffled and his pants hung to his waist perfectly. His shirt, light blue with white pinstripes, suggested that he wasn't going home when they landed in London.

"Business meeting?" asked Hermione.

"You could say that," he replied, "I have a breakfast booking for us at seven thirty, downstairs."

"This should count as a second date," she joked, smiling.

However, Draco didn't smile back. His stony appearance advised that there he was in a sombre mood but she couldn't pinpoint the reason why. It did make her feel as though she were stepping on egg shells but. His eyes were cold and his eyebrows, slightly furrowed, warned that there was something on his mind.

"I'm not letting you go that easily," he said, "Be quick, I don't like being late."

Hermione bit back the urge to ask him what the matter was, as it felt like she was already prying, "I'll just go get my things."

As she turned around to pick up her handbag from beside her bed, she wondered what could have happened to him. She opened her mouth, ready to say something subtly comforting, but was abruptly stopped. She felt a strong pair of arms wrap around her waist from behind. Draco was resting his head on her shoulder and holding her tightly against his body. It wasn't erotic in any manner, but was a lot like a snake clinging to someone for body warmth.

"Mr Malfoy," she stuttered, "What are you-?"

He shushed her, "Please just let me stay like this, just for a moment."

And so Hermione let Draco Malfoy hold her in the middle of a hotel suite. It was the first time she's ever felt so close to a man and yet so far from understanding.

Draco smelt like clean aftershave, mingled with a scent that she couldn't place. The contact and the warmth of his skin sent shivers down her spine. Hermione tried to breathe. She felt her heart pounding so fast that she'd daresay the maids could hear her in the next room over. It made me nervous in a way that she'd never felt before.

However, she knew that he needed her.

For now, at least.

He needed her more than anything.

And he didn't know why.

* * *

"I'm sorry about what happened," he apologized as they sat silently at the table, "It was inappropriate of me."

Hermione shook her head, "It's fine, really."

Draco was picking at his food and, in the half hour that they'd already been sitting there, she barely saw him actually eat anything. His expression remained icy but in a softer way than before, as though the incident had thawed him out slightly.

"Is it too meddlesome if I ask what happened, though?" she inquired with caution.

His smile was cold, "Indeed it would be."

"Could I ask anyway?"

"I wouldn't tell you."

Hermione sighed, giving up her cause, as she continued to eat her breakfast. It was nothing special but it still tasted better than anything she and Ginny had ever whipped up in their kitchen. Although, come to think of it, all they ever had in their kitchen was old cereal and eggs. Between trying to pay for rent and University, they didn't have much money left to spend and both were very averse to using their parents or, in Ginny's case, fiancé's money. She claimed that there was a reason she hadn't moved in with Harry yet – she was an independent woman. Whatever that meant.

She took the chance to look around the room. The restaurant was almost empty, with just a few older ladies scattered here and there. There was soft music playing, a jazz standard by Natalie Cole, and the soft sunlight seeped through the lace curtains. It was a beautiful place but the heavy atmosphere was ruining it for her.

"So do you have class today?" Draco asked, attempting to break the ice.

"No," replied Hermione, "Just have work tonight."

"Where at?"

"A restaurant a couple of blocks away from my apartment."

Draco smiled, suddenly warm, "So you're a gourmet chef?"

Hermione laughed, "Gourmet? Please, we serve greasy chips and watered down soft drink. I'm also just a waitress, not a chef."

"What a shame, you'd look cute in the hat."

Hermione blushed and kept her eyes on her plate. It was odd how he was able to control her emotions like that – one minute it was chillingly uncomfortable and the next he was being as sweet as a schoolboy. As much as she enjoyed it though, it only confused her more.

Draco was a difficult man, and definitely not someone she would get involved with.

"You haven't won yet, you know."

"Sorry?"

"The three dates bet. I hope you don't think that just because you've taken me to some expensive place and given me a shirt worth more than my entire closet, that I'm going to fall for you. I don't go for money."

"I know you don't," he smirked, "It wouldn't be fun if you did."

Hermione wondered whether that was what everything was to him – just a bit of a fun, a challenge. Maybe he didn't think of her as more than that, "I'm not a fun person."

"You're not," he replied, "But I like you regardless."

* * *

"Hermione, table 8. Go."

The head chef handed her a hot plate of oily fries and a thrown together cheese burger. A plastic cup of soda also sat next to it. Hermione wiped her hands on her apron, "On it."

It was a classic night at the restaurant, although, after where she dined last night, she was a bit hesitant to even call it that. Families with screaming children and coffee addicted writers filled the room, which coincidentally smelt of thick grease and cigarettes. She quickly brought the plate to the table and then headed in the opposite direction, handing a mother her bill.

There wasn't much time for pleasantries on her job, and nobody really expected it, which was just as good. All Hermione could think about was the plane trip back from Paris.

She was shy from what Draco had said, but he seemed comfortable to be in silence. What happened that morning had suddenly become some sort of personal secret. Nobody wanted to talk about it. He could be an incredibly intimidating person when he wanted to be, completely domineering at times, but there was still another part of him, a softer part, that she wished he could be more at ease with showing.

Not that it mattered to her, of course, since she was definitely not interested in Draco Malfoy.

Even if she was still wearing the Agent Provocateur.

"Hermione!" a female voice called her name.

She turned to see Ginny, hand in hand with Harry, entering the restaurant. Hermione waved back and looked to her manager, who nodded, allowing her to take a short break to talk to her friends. Smiling, she slid into the cubicle that they occupied.

"Cosy little date at my workplace, guys," Hermione said, smiling, "I thought Harry would have picked somewhere a little more romantic."

"I would have, but I want to know why Draco Malfoy called my office yesterday looking for you," Harry responded, "And why you're on the cover of every newspaper this morning too."

Her eyes widened, "Are you serious?"

Ginny nodded, "He is. They even have your name and the university all confirmed now."

Hermione cursed, "I didn't get to read the paper this morning. I got back and pretty much came straight to work."

"Well, the office is abuzz. So tell me, what happened?"

"Well, Mr Potter," she responded sarcastically, "We went for a nice date at McDonalds, caught a screening of Ice Age 3 and I got home nice and early, _way_ before bedtime."

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Seriously."

"Fine. Paris – he took me to Paris! Can you believe it? I mean, the arrogance of the guy, thinking that just because I agreed to go on one measly date-"

"Three."

"- _Three_ measley dates, that I had agreed to go on some overnight trip with him to another country. I mean, I barely even know the guy, he could have trapped me and then thrown me out midway for all I knew."

"But you went?" asked Harry with a raised eyebrow, "Since when were you one to do such hasty things?"

"Since McGonagall," shared Ginny.

"Well, she wanted me to take more risks, so I'm taking more risks."

"But you don't know this guy, Hermione," Ginny insisted.

Harry pulled out a stack of news articles from his messenger, all stapled together neatly although with a small coffee stain, "What do you actually know about Malfoy Enterprises?" He handed her the stack of paper, all printed on top with a small circular emblem – a snake encircling the letter M. They were all newspaper reports, dating back at least two decades, concerning the Malfoy family.

"I don't care! Guys, I'm not even interested in the guy, I'm just doing this for the final paper. I don't want to fail it and I want that internship."

"So you're saying that him whisking you off on a private jet last night did nothing for you?" Ginny looked hesitant as she eyed her best friend up and down. Nothing looked particularly different with her, her hair was still frizzy in its little bun and her shirt was, as always when it came to work, stained with some unknown substance.

Hermione sighed, "Nothing, Ginny! I don't go for money, I told you."

"But you _love_ Paris."

"I love your caramel mud cake too, but you don't see me wanting to ride off into the sun set with you every time you bake one."

"Hermione," said Harry, his tone suddenly a lot more discreet and severe, "The Malfoys might be dangerous. Draco's been involved with nothing but a few scandals with some girls, that's true, and we all know that us media people like to exaggerate, but his family is murky.

Before starting up the company, his father Lucius was well known in the underground for drug trafficking. He was so good that, even though the cops knew it was him, they were never able to catch him. They say that he's been in the business for at least twenty years now, if not more, and that he might be the one behind a lot of crimes, murders even.

They're not good people and, whether all of these reports are fact or not, there is something not right about them. They came into the business fifteen years ago and somehow managed to make all this money so quickly, but no one actually knows what they do. The only people who want something to do with them are either criminals or fame seekers, and you are neither."

"Just be careful. Please?" begged Ginny.

"I have to work, guys," Hermione said, standing up, "and look, he hasn't even called or texted since he dropped me off. I don't even have his number, for all I know he could be bored of me already and he might just leave me alone."

"But do you want him to?"

"Of course I do."

But Hermione knew that there was a part of her, albeit a very small and insignificant part, that broke when she thought of never seeing him again.

* * *

_I have grown and matured as a person since the beginning of my studies._

Hermione, sitting on the floor hunched over her typewriter, sighed. She was stuck yet again and, because she was such an old fashioned technophobe, she was running out of ribbon.

"Here," Ginny handed her a mug of hot chocolate. The drink was steaming hot, just how she liked it, and the mug was her favourite one – a white one with a pudgy cat on it which had since stained yellow.

Hermione took a careful sip, "Thanks Ginny."

"Still stuck on the paper?"

"Utterly."

Ginny took a seat beside her and crossed her legs, resting her elbows on her knees, "Hermione, I don't think this whole 'taking risks' thing is good for you. I mean, I'm really happy that you found someone like Draco, but his family history really scares me."

"It's fine, honest. He's been nothing but a gentleman to me," she ignored the small tug in her chest from her subconscious who remembered what happened at her doorway, "And I'm not even into him like that." Once again, she pretended that the memories of his arms locking themselves around her waist didn't exist.

"Are you sure?" Ginny cocked her head.

"Positive," Hermione smiled, "I'm a smart girl, I can take care of myself."

"Alright," agreed Ginny, a smile suddenly appearing on her face, "By the way, I went to do the laundry today. What is _this_?" She held up the lingerie set and the designer clothes that Hermione had accidentally thrown into their communal laundry basket.

She grabbed it out of her hands, tossing it to the side, "I needed a change of clothes! He got his bodyguard to pick it up for me. Don't worry, I'll do the washing."

Ginny giggled, "He sent his body guard to Agent Provocateur?"

"Shush!" she could help but let a small smile appear on her lips. The situation was actually a little ridiculous, especially since the most luxurious brand that she and Ginny had ever splurged on was Victoria's Secret, and even then could only afford it when it was on sale, "I didn't expect it either. Thankfully it wasn't one of those cut out bras."

Her friend erupted in laughter, "You would look like an idiot in that!"

Hermione pushed her playfully, "Come on! I can be sexy too, you're not the only girl in this room."

"Says the girl in track pants and a holed up shirt?"

Hermione examined her appearance quickly and deduced that it really was surprising that a girl lay under her bed clothes. However that didn't stop her from attacking Ginny, still giggling. She was worried that their shrieks and yelps would give the neighbours the wrong idea.

Almost.

Finally, the two girls collapsed on Hermione's bed, breathing heavily.

"I still can't believe it."

"Believe what?" asked Hermione.

"You're dating Draco Malfoy."

She paused, staring at the ceiling. Was that what she was doing? Surely one date (okay, eventually three) couldn't possibly mean something to impactful in her life, but what else was dating?

"I am, huh?"

"And do you know how much one of those bras are worth?" Ginny exclaimed, snickering.

"Oh you just won't drop it, will you?" Hermione laughed, jumping over to tickle her best friend.

It was nice, feeling like she was home again, but she couldn't help a small part of her wishing that her bed sheets felt like those back at the hotel.

Just a tiny part.

* * *

Draco sat in front of his computer, sending email after email. He didn't take part in the family business over in London but had his own plans.

His father had tried to call numerous times again, but he had to power to ignore them. It couldn't get any worse than it already was anyway. Instead, he spent his day sending blue prints and transaction records over to Los Angeles, where he had started building a small branch company from Malfoy Enterprises. Obviously, it was the incorporation his father had just received notice of.

There was a knock at his door.

"Sir," his bodyguard spoke, "Mr Malfoy is here to see you."

Draco's heart stopped for a second when he realized that the inevitable was here.

"Send in him, Vincent."

* * *

**A/N:** _Thank you once again to the response to the last chapter! I'm finding myself very attached to this fan fiction so I'm writing on my laptop as I travel to and from Uni. I don't know how long I can keep this up though, so do forgive me if things slow down a little bit. Please feel free to leave me a question if there's anything you would like to ask._

_Also, from the uploading of the __**next**__ chapter, I will be renaming this fan fiction. 'She thought he put the stars in the sky' was actually something that I read online that prompted me to write this fiction and I might reuse it sometime either as a quote or in one of my songs. This exact work, however, will be renamed 'Stars in the Sky' as the shortened form of the original name._

_And as always, please review, I'd love to hear what you think (: I've also worked out how to PM now!_


End file.
